“I never said half the things I really said.” – Yogi Berra
Standing in the corner of the small conference room of the brigade headquarters, I listened closely as the commander leaned back in his well-worn government-issue chair and prepared to issue planning guidance to his staff. In the language of the trade, I was serving in the role of an observer/controller and the brigade was embroiled in a warfighter exercise simulating a conflict that was quickly evolving into a hot war in a highly contested area of the Pacific theater.
“First of all,” he began, “we’re the big show in town. [A sister brigade] is chopping a battalion to us, and I want us to absolutely schwack the [enemy force]. Bring the scunion. We’re in it to win it. Let’s show ‘em what we can do.”
Concise, direct, and completely incomprehensible to anyone unfamiliar with unpublished military tactical terminology.
The major next to me was all but losing his mind. “This is what we were looking for! The big gotcha! I can’t wait for the after action review!!”
A common Language
It was a cold November morning in Training Area 17 on Fort Campbell. My platoon sergeant and I were sharing an early cup of coffee on the hood of my CUCV as one of the other platoon leaders rambled on senselessly about something on the radio. Even in the pre-dawn hours, I could see the look on his face: “Second lieutenants should not be allowed on radio,” he said. “No offense, L-T.”
None taken.
The military relies on a common language of standardized terms and graphics, which ensures that our communication is clear, concise, and precise. In a world where someone could triangulate your position with relative quickness, you don’t need to be lingering on an open channel explaining your intent because you don’t know the proper terminology.
The use of common terms and symbols isn’t bureaucratic; it’s a guardrail for operations that move with violent speed. It allows the military to transform complex battlefield dynamics into a universally understood language that translates to synchronized, coordinate action under situations of extreme duress. When a commander orders a subordinate unit to secure an objective, everyone needs to understand the meaning of secure.
So, when that raw lieutenant is communicating with his own unique taxonomy, it introduces significant risk into the equation. The resultant confusion slows momentum, desynchronizes maneuver, and threatens mission success. In a high-stakes environment where seconds matter and ambiguity can cost lives, a common language is non-negotiable.
The Language of War
But war often alters the calculus of the clarity of our communication. Colloquialisms are introduced into the lexicon and become part of an unofficial – and often universally recognized – part of our common language. And some even find their way into common civilian use. When the boss tells her team at the blinker fluid plant that they need to bite the bullet, everyone knows what she means.
This was no different during the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq, when commanders often channeled terminology that sidestepped norms, but were commonly understood. Schwack became a term used to describe the defeat mechanism destroy. Chop declared the intent to assign operational control of one unit to another headquarters. Pound the sh*t out of… well, that was largely situational, and it helped to understand the context.
1. Pound the sh*t out of.
A tactical task somewhere on the scale between destroy and disintegrate, but definitely more than dislocate or isolate.
2. Flex.
A really cool sounding term used to maneuver a unit between locations.
3. Drive by.
To engage the enemy while bypassing.
4. Technique.
A term typically used derogatorily in the phrase, “That’s a technique.” Whatever you’re doing, it’s wrong.
5. Take it to the next level.
You’re at the 90% solution, but the boss wants you to commit everything for the final 10% that probably won’t make a difference.
6. Frame the problem.
Now a formal part of the common language, it began as a reminder for people to actually understand the problem they were solving before they solved it.
7. Resource neutral solution.
Don’t be fooled when you hear this. You’re going to do more with less and like it.
8. Way ahead.
Essentially, this term is dropped when your “to-do” list is about to get a lot longer, without any more people or added resources.
9. Blamestorming.
In the aftermath of a failed mission, designating responsibility to someone who is generally not present in the room.
10. Buttload.
An arbitrary measure for “a lot.” Slightly less than a sh*tload but definitely more than an *ssload. Often used to describe what a major defense contractor makes every minute of the day.
When it came time for the after action review, I counseled the colonel leading our team for caution. “We need to crosswalk the operations order before we make an issue of this.” He ignored me. Proudly taking the lectern, he launched into a tirade about the dangers of imprecise language and terminology, lecturing the audience in attendance and putting on a show for the assembled stars in the room. The brigade commander held a perfect poker face – whatever he was thinking wasn’t apparent in the moment.
When he responded, he simply asked his operations officer to read back the key parts of the order that reflected his guidance to the staff. It was a textbook piece of tactical writing, with every term used precisely and correctly, clearly conveying his intent and expectations. He didn’t gloat. He didn’t point out the obvious errors in our team’s analysis. He simply thanked his operations officer and let the stunned silence in the room speak for itself.
